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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22368664">Sweet like Cinnamon, Cold like Hell</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozymandiamos/pseuds/ozymandiamos'>ozymandiamos</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Better Call Saul (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Art included!!, F/M, Gen, Post-Canon, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, also sad, cinnabon reunites them...., ends on a cliffhanger but I promise there's other goodies in this, god I love them both</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:55:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,416</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22368664</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozymandiamos/pseuds/ozymandiamos</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kim tries to go home for a winter vacation when she winds up at the Cinnabon in Omaha...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jimmy McGill | Saul Goodman/Kim Wexler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Blue Christmeth 2019</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sweet like Cinnamon, Cold like Hell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/totally_kafkaesque/gifts">totally_kafkaesque</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HAPPY BLUE CRISTMETH BRO I hope you enjoy this work and enjoy reading it as much as I did writing this :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was that special time of the year again for Kim Wexler. The end of the fall season and the beginning of winter means that soon enough she’d travel back to her home state of Nebraska. In her heart she knows that everything would be exactly how she left it—the same streets, the same houses, the same rundown gas station mini-mart.</p><p> </p><p>Everything would be the same, and yet Kim felt like she’s changed radically.</p><p> </p><p>The past few years have been… a frantic mess. A nightmare to say the least. Not only has Kim spent her time being a business lawyer, she’s been working as a public defender in the courts. She’s rarely taken time off, this being the only exception.</p><p> </p><p>And yet, even now on the plane ride over to Omaha, she’s been working nonstop on this litigation for a client. The only time she stops writing is when the flight attendant asks her to put the tray upright. Even the bumpy plane landing didn’t stop her from writing on her lap the last little bit of text needed for this report.</p><p> </p><p>Kim figured she wouldn’t have any time to do work once she visits her family… but that’s a lie and she knew it. She would probably work on it in the night as usual… She couldn’t help but overwork herself. It was in her nature.</p><p> </p><p>But judging by the murmurs from other passengers and the announcement from the captain, it seemed likely she’d get some more downtime than intended.</p><p> </p><p>“Ladies and gentleman, welcome to Omaha. Unfortunately we are just getting news that most planes have been grounded today due to a blizzard… If you have a connecting flight than you can talk with the gate agent of your respective flight and they will help you out”</p><p> </p><p><em>Shit</em>. No more flights for today?</p><p> </p><p>Kim sighed at that. Great, that means she’s stuck in Omaha for the time being. At least that’s better than being trapped in her hometown, but still. It was an annoyance.</p><p> </p><p>After going through the whole process of getting her onboard stuff, talking with the ticketing agent to reschedule, and going to go get a car for herself at the rental place, Kim finally relaxed a little.</p><p> </p><p>Now she sat in her rental car blowing heat onto her hands, wondering what her plan is now. If the blizzard’s grounding the planes, then that means there’s going to be no way she’d get a flight tomorrow. She could <em>drive</em> to her hometown… But it was a haul, especially in this kind of weather. She didn’t want to take that chance. </p><p> </p><p>Worse yet, she didn’t plan to stay overnight anywhere. All of her luggage was stuck in that purgatory where bags go when connecting flights get cancelled. That means shed have to at least get <em>something</em> to wear. Albuquerque was frigid during the winter, but the Midwest was cold as hell. The type of cold that freezes the snot in your nose and cuts through your skin to the bones…</p><p> </p><p>Yeah. Kim needed something more substantial than her simple jacket she’s got on.</p><p> </p><p>She might as well go to the mall and get a decent coat, since she’s here. It wouldn’t hurt. Back in Albuquerque she rarely, if ever, went to the mall. Most of the time she’s at work and when she needs new clothes she just gets what’s necessary. The only other time she’d go to the mall was with…</p><p> </p><p>Hm.</p><p> </p><p>The last time she actually went to the mall was with Jimmy. Last time they went was when he was still in the back of the nail salon scraping for clients. During on of her breaks they went to shop for a nice tie for him during that Kettleman nut job case…</p><p> </p><p>It seemed like a whole lifetime ago.</p><p> </p><p>———</p><p>
  <em>“Kim c’mon just look at it for the color not the pattern-“</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Jimmy it’s- I can’t. I can’t see past the pattern-“</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Why!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Its ugly!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Like a blessing from the fashion gods, Jimmy finally put down the horrendous looking tie. Although he looked slightly grumpy at leaving the ugly tie there.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“It was a good color,”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“I think that you’re colorblind. Or pattern blind. That didn’t scream ‘sophisticated lawyer’ to me at all.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Okay okay fine, no more houndstooth ties-“</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Look look, how about this one? This ones nice, it tells me you’re competent and smart,” Jimmy looked at the tie Kim was showing. It was a bare bones, simple dark blue tie with lighter blue dots sewn into the fabric.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Ah yes. Hamlindigo color but lower saturation.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“God you really are colorblind. This doesn’t even a trace of purple in it, it’s literally blue,” she said.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Alright, okay, it’s blue. Still. I’m not feeling it.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Kim shrugged, putting the tie back down. They looked for a little bit until finally Jimmy chose a simple grey tie with an unassuming pattern.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Very monochromatic”</em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>“Very </em>boring<em>. But like you said, I’m trying to pull them in, not scare ‘em off. I want them to think I work in a real office”</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“You do though. You’ve got your own phone, your own waiting room-“</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“In a nail salon,” he said, taking the little bag with his brand new boring tie in it. They stepped out of the suit store into the main drag off the mall. It was relatively empty for a Tuesday, but people still milled about and around shopping.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Nail salon or not. You’re more competent than a lot of other people I’ve worked with. That’s for sure”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“You flatter me, really. It’s a treat spending time with you,” Jimmy put his hand over his heart. He meant it though, Kim was his only friend who believed in him being a good lawyer. Having at least one person in your corner meant something…</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Speaking of treat… Guess what I can get?”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Good eyes so you can see color properly?”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Even better. Check it out,” he pulled out his wallet, digging for a second before procuring two wrinkled pieces of paper.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Coupons?”</em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>“For two </em>free<em> mini Cinnabon cups. That right there is a meal in and of itself.”</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Kim couldn’t argue with that logic. The density of those rolls could classify them as food ration bricks. You could eat one a day and get the same amount of calories as any other meal.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Well you deserve it. To celebrate your first real potential clients.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Beats when we worked in the mail room right?”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Definitely.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>———</p><p>It doesn’t matter where you go, or what state or town you are in, the feeling of going into a Cinnabon at the mall is the same as visiting an old friend. It was familiar, comforting, warm. There was just something about those round buns covered in sticky white frosting that tapped into ones primal sweet tooth. The smell of the cinnamon pastry and the look of those fluffy rolls in the window would entice any mall-goer walking by, young or old, luring them under the white and blue sign that promised a cinnamon treat. And Kim was no exception to that.</p><p> </p><p>After getting a relatively decent coat and a few other provisions, she wandered on over to the Cinnabon next to the escalators. She could smell the cinnamon all the way at the other end of the mall, but getting closer the scent was all consuming.</p><p> </p><p>She finally approached the counter, not looking at the man behind the cash register until she decided that there wasn’t a point to make this complicated. No point in trying something new or fancy. Might as well go with the order that looked the best.</p><p> </p><p>“One..Mini? Mini Cinnabon cup please”</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t until Kim finally got out her crisp dollar bills did she realize the cashier hasn’t moved, hasn’t even punched in the order on the register… She looked at him, a slight furrow in her brow. He looked older, but maybe that was because of the mustache and dated glasses. But it was the /way/ he was looking at her that put her off. <em>What is his issue?</em> Jesus.</p><p> </p><p>When she looked in his eyes it all finally came together. She thought after all this time she’d forget what he would look like but no. It was still there underneath the old glasses and mustache. It was the same facial structure, the way his eyes turned down and encased his blue eyes. She hasn’t seen that face in years, and the wear and tear told his whole story…</p><p> </p><p>“…Jimmy?”</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I think I might continue this in a separate series... I love these two so much and I kinda left it open ended on purpose... we'll see lol but thanks for reading ! :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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